


A Late Night Conversation

by fanaticfanfictionwriter



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship, Romance, also more percy teasing, people seemed to enjoy a soft percy so I wrote more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21705970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanaticfanfictionwriter/pseuds/fanaticfanfictionwriter
Summary: Percival's fellow knights tease him about how nice he is towards Djeeta
Relationships: Djeeta/Percival (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 96





	A Late Night Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> I wanna thank everyone who left nice comments/kudos for my first fic I'm sorry I didn't reply I'm shy but reading them always fires me up to continue writing more for these two, so thank you again

It had been some time since the group of knights had last gathered for a night of drinking. A tradition of sorts between the old comrades from their days of shared knighthood in the Order of the Black Dragons, the group of four—dressed down in their recently acquired loungewear—sit at a lone table in the middle of the empty, dimly lit dining hall of the Grandcypher. Alcohol and snacks are spread across the wooden table as the friends talk about anything and everything until the topic at hand suddenly switches to a completely different subject, the subject of which was key in rekindling their frayed relationships.

"Like I said, you're totally way nicer to the Captain than us!" Vane takes a large gulp of ale before slamming his jug down on the table. He wipes his mouth dry with the sleeve of his dark blue pajamas, gifted by the young members of Team Chickadee who pitched in to buy the baby chick patterned nightwear for their captain.

Percival doesn't dignify Vane's comment with a response, opting instead to raise his own mug to his lips and take a sip of its dark orange liquid. The vice-captain of the current order of knights in Feendrache was uttering nonsense as usual, not really worth acknowledging if you asked him. Vane seemed fond of uttering whatever popped into his head and Percival wasn't going to bother playing along.

"Now that you mention it, Percival _is_ rather nice to the Captain." Pipes up Lancelot, sat next to the blonde nursing a drink of his own in his white long sleeve cotton shirt and black capri pajama set. Percival, sitting diagonally across from the brunette, nearly chokes on his ale. Leave it to Lancelot to further indulge his childhood friend's silly fantasies.

"You're imagining things." Percival says, his grip on the handle of his mug tightens while chills, that he imagines isn't coming from a sudden breeze of cool air hitting his semi exposed chest, run up his spine. If he didn't let them pry any further, then maybe he could get them the drop the topic altogether.

"No way," insists Vane, who refuses to let it go. He points an accusatory finger at Percival. "Remember that time when the Captain and I were baking that apple pie?" With his free hand, he cups his chin in thought as he recounts the memory.

* * * * * *

Right now, Djeeta's face looked exactly as it did after several Anubis runs—on the brink of tears, ready to crack from the mental exhaustion from having excitedly opened her well-earned blue chest only to reveal the lousy, useless spell book at the bottom.

All her hard work to recreate the apple pies she ate during her childhood back on Zinkenstill was reduced to nothing as soon as she saw the burnt edges of the pie crust. She did everything in her power to make sure the pie would turn out as delicious as the ones she helped bake back home with her grannies—doing stuff like sending them a letter to make sure she remembered the recipe correctly or hiding the freshest, reddest apples she had to prevent Vyrn's stomach from getting a hold of them first—only to have her creation ruined. 

"It...it doesn't look that bad!" Vane's baby blue oven mitts held up the apple pie between them. Despite all her preparation, she couldn't have anticipated that the thing that would've destroyed all her meticulous planning would be the oven not working like expected. 

Vane turned his gaze towards the oven, regret seeping into his voice and onto his face. "I should've taken into account that the ovens on ships rely on fire magic and adjusted the cooking time," Vane turned back towards Djeeta and clapped his hands together in front of him with his head hung apologetically. "Sorry!"

Djeeta waved her hands in front of her, trying to dismiss any thoughts that made Vane think she'd be angry or upset with him. 

"It's okay, look." Djeeta gestured towards the part of the pie untouched by the char. Most of it was still edible despite the glaring imperfection. "It's totally fine." As if to prove her point, she flashed Vane the best forced smile she could given the situation.

The Captain grabbed a nearby knife and tried cutting a slice, the crunching sound of which caused tears to well up in the corners of her eyes. She somehow managed to blink away her tears and placed the slice of pie on a nearby plate. But no matter how hard she tried to mask her disappointment, Vane could see right through it. This treat, the first she's made outside of any sort of obligation, must have been really important for her to get right.

The Feendrache knight, who wanted to prevent an oncoming flood of tears, headed towards the freezer to pull out a carton of vanilla ice cream. In an attempt to both cheer her up and salvage the baked good, he made his way back to Djeeta to present it to her.

"I've never tried it myself, but Lancey swears that a scoop of this stuff with any pie is the best!" Before Djeeta could say anything, Vane grabbed a scooper from the utensil drawer and held it under running hot water; the Captain's tears wouldn't wait around for the ice cream to thaw out. "Besides, what's most important is that you put your feelings into the food you're making!"

"My feelings?"

"Yeah! As long you put your feelings into your food, it'll taste delicious no matter what!" At least that was what Vane thought made his dishes so well liked by his friends. Vane turned the hot water off and made his way back to where Djeeta stood in front of the pie.

However before he could scoop any onto the pie in walked Percival, wearing his black undershirt as loungewear, holding his teapot. It was just about time for the Lord of Flames to enjoy his afternoon tea and he was there to fill the hand blown, heat resistant glass teapot—a matching glass infuser settled inside, perfectly designed to watch the tea leaves swim around in the liquid while it brews—with boiling hot water. From the arched eyebrow on the noble's face, Vane could have only guessed that Percival didn't expect to walk in on his vassal looking like she was on the brink of tears.

Not wanting the situation to be misunderstood by Percival, or rather he didn’t want the redhead yelling and calling him names for what he might've assumed was Vane being the cause for her current expression, he opened his mouth to try to explain what happened. But before he could utter a word, Percival swiftly exchanged his teapot with the plate of pie, setting it down on the island kitchen counter. Plate in hand, he walked towards the cutlery drawer to search for a fork. Once he found what he was looking for, he cut the pie into smaller pieces with the edge of the utensil.

"Wait!" Djeeta rushed to Percival's side, her hand hovered towards his to try and stop the fork from reaching his mouth. "It's burnt!" She blurted, stating the obvious. "You...You don't have to eat it." Djeeta's gaze fell to the floor, her cheeks flushed and her hands busy wringing themselves. However, her warning didn't deter him and he continued without pause.

"The rest of the pie is still edible." He placed one of the pieces into his mouth and gave it several chews before he swallowed, quick to eat the next. After seeing him go for another bite, Djeeta's tense shoulders relaxed.

"Does it taste good though?" His vassal's question shifted Percival's attention from the pie back to her, frozen in place by her expectant gaze. He closed his eyes, his chewing having slowed down to a full stop as he swallowed.

He gave a hum of approval.

"The center is still moist and the apples are crisp," Percival commended, a hint of a tiny smile visible even from where Vane stood. Djeeta's worried expression was soon replaced with a much happier one, deep amber eyes lighting up at hearing his praise and seemingly delighted that Percival approved of it.

"Isn't that great, Captain?" Vane gleefully walked up behind Djeeta to reassuredly pat her on both shoulders. He wasn't sure if the pie was made for the redhead in the first place, but he was relieved that the Captain's disheartened mood turned around.

"It also isn't overwhelmingly sweet like a certain _someone's_ dessert." Percival's aura increased in hostility, eyes casually drifting to the hands on the Captain's shoulder.

"What was that?!" Vane's smile instantly flipped upside down at his friend's sudden remark. Percival could call him every terrible name in the book and Vane would have brushed it off, but insult his baking? 

Vane had to draw the line somewhere.

"Didn't hear me?" Percival set his fork on the empty plate and narrowed his eyes at the blonde man. "I said your desserts are too sweet."

"A lot of people like my sweets being, well, sweet!" 

"Lancelot doesn't count as ' _a lot of people_ '."

"It's more than just Lancey that likes my sweets!" Vane's hands finally removed themselves from his female friend's shoulders. Now rested on his hips, he continued with a confident and, somewhat justifiably, smug smirk. "Just the other day Siegfried complimented my—"

"Whatever," Percival opened the dishwasher and put his plate and fork inside. "After my tea is done, I'll be in my room if you need me, but try not to need me." Percival paused, quickly turning his head towards Djeeta. "You're welcome to join me for tea, though, Captain." His tone softened ever so slightly and though it was subtle, the Feendrache knight picked up on it.

"Hey what's that supposed to mean?! Y'know, that's a little unfair Percy!" Vane, upset at the difference in treatment, watched as Percival pulled the stainless steel kettle—mostly used by Sandalphon for his coffee endeavors—from the upper cabinets. After filling it up with water, he set the kettle on the stove.

"It means you're not invited," the redhead sighed, switching the burner on before he turned back around to face Vane. "And I don't believe I gave you permission to call me that!"

Djeeta giggled, any worry from earlier completely gone and thoroughly enjoying their little fight. Both of the men's eyes darted towards the source of the laughter and Percival, with flushed cheeks, cleared his throat.

"Since I've prepared some hot water for tea, perhaps it will pair well with your treat." The redhead's head eyes darted back and forth between the kettle and his trusted vassal, head still turned towards the stove as he awaited her response.

"Sure!" Djeeta's giggles simmered down, smile still plastered on her face, and leaned in closer to the future king. She had begun tapping her finger to her chin, as if going over all she picked up from their discussions on tea. "The perfect tea to pair with it would be a black tea, no?" Thankfully she absorbed up information well, especially on niche subjects such as these, and it's reflected by the smile on Percival's face.

"Correct, fruity black teas pair well with sweet desserts. Desserts, unless heavily sweetened, don't often go well with smoky black teas."

"Yeah because of that tannin stuff that enhances the sweetness!" Djeeta took the glass teapot from its spot on the island counter, removed the infuser, and rinsed it with warm water. Once the teapot was thoroughly warmed, she dumped the water. 

"Correct again." Percival took the teapot from her and put the infuser back in. He then opened the overhead cabinet, full of various teas and coffee beans, and pulled out a tin can of tea leaves. "Though it still goes with sweet chocolate."

The kettle whistled, signaling the water was boiling and the closer of the two to the stove shut the burner off. Vane stood by the abandoned pie, feeling closed off from the little world they seemed to have created without notice and resigned himself to watch the two. The way they moved around looked so coordinated, never once did one bump into the other nor did Percival instruct her on what to do next, that it couldn't have been the first time they made tea together.

"What kind of tea is this?" Djeeta tilted her head, eyeing the rolled up black leaves.

"Darjeeling," Percival scooped up a few teaspoons of the leaves, dropping them into the infuser. "A recent favorite of mine." His smile melted into a softer one as his voice lowered, still within earshot of Vane. "The color it produces is very relaxing to look at."

Percival grabbed a dishcloth and wrapped it around the handle of the kettle so he could safely pour the hot water over the leaves. The water filled the cylinder infuser, seeping through it and into the rest of the teapot. The three of them watched as the water turned from its usual pristine clear to a mix of yellow, orange and brown.

"Woah, I didn't think those tea leaves could make a color this nice!?" Vane made his way in between the pair and, like a kid at an aquarium, pressed his face closer to the glass.

"Don't fog up the glass!" Percival pulled him back by the collar of his shirt. Djeeta couldn't help but let out a chuckle at their antics.

Vane tugged at his shirt's collar until Percival deemed him a safe distance away to let go. He rubbed his neck, his eyes shifting rapidly between the teapot and the Captain. Now not at risk of choking, Percival’s earlier comments about the tea—being a relaxing color—were free to echo in his head, lingering the more they repeated themselves. The cogs in his head started to turn, not giving himself a chance to filter his thoughts as they nonchalantly began to spew out.

"They're the same color."

Djeeta turned her attention to Vane, her silent blinks giving away her confusion.

"The tea and your eyes, they're—"

Percival's loud cough prevented him from finishing that thought, the tips of his ears sporting the same shade of red as his hair.

"Don't you have a bunch of rookie knights to train?" The kitchen suddenly felt stuffier, becoming several degrees hotter in a matter of seconds.

Vane looked up at the only clock hanging in the kitchen and panicked.

"Shit, you're right!" He took off his oven mitts and tossed them haphazardly on the counter, not given a second thought as he struggled out of his apron. "Sorry Captain, I'm gonna need to leave cleanup to you!"

* * * * * *

"Of course I was nicer. Though you're no professional by any means, you have a lot more experience in the field of cooking and baking." A smug smirk graces the Lord of Flames's face, believing his answer to be sufficient enough to counter his friend's silly accusation. While Djeeta wasn't a terrible cook, from what he knows, it would take anyone years to reach the same level of self-taught culinary skills Vane worked his butt off to acquire.

He was definitely in the clear.

"Really?" Vane tilts his head in disbelief and scratching the side of it in thought, his eyes squinting the more he replays the explanation in his head.

It seems like he wouldn't be buying his explanation so easily; of all the times for Vane to finally use his brain, he picks now.

"Yes really. Also, you of all people should have known that ships use fire magic so I can't fault her for the pie getting burnt." Percival takes a sip of his ale, letting his explanation linger in the air for it to have greater effect in its believability. Although, even if it were her fault and the entire thing was nothing but charred remains, he'd have a hard time _not_ forcing himself to eat it. Seeing her frown twist into a smile, a magical panacea in its own right, would be enough to ease whatever stomach ache he got later.

"But you were definitely a lot nicer to the Captain than me..." Vane crosses his arm, eyebrows furrowed and eyes closed in concentration as if trying to figure out a complicated math problem.

"Worry not Vane," Lancelot rests a comforting hand on his friend's shoulders, causing him to open his eyes in surprise. "No matter what anyone says, I'll always think your sweets are the best!"

"Lancey…!" Imaginary math problem tossed aside, Vane perks up and bathes in Lancelot's praise. He really knew the right words to cheer someone up!

"The mongrel's sweets aren't the issue here…"

"Well I don't think Vane's too far off the mark with his observation," defended Lancelot, giving a short pause. "Regarding your treatment of the Captain I mean."

"You think so too?" Siegfried speaks up from Percival's left, previously content to listen. The Dragonslayer, there since the beginning of the conversation, starts to find the current topic interesting so he decides to join in.

"Siegfried, sir, please don't encourage their little conspiracy theory."

"It's not much of a conspiracy if there's more than one witness to said theory." Lancelot smugly states, grabbing a pretzel stick from their array of snacks and pointing towards his former rival. "Like that one time we were sparring on deck."

* * * * * *

" _Schnelvogel!_ " 

Lancelot came crashing down, a single blade in his grip, upon Percival who, with both of his hands, readied Lohengrin to block the attack. When Lancelot couldn't pierce through his opponent's defenses, he opted to create some distance between them with a somersault. But he realized the second he jumped away from Percival that he hadn't leapt high enough to make the full spin. Instead of trying to land into a barrel roll, he figured he'd use ice as an anchor for his swords to grab a hold on to—

_Crap._

He forgot he was training with just one sword today! His plan to balance his weight on two swords wouldn't work!

He tossed the sword aside to try and safely attempt that somersault from earlier. Thankfully he landed on his butt, his eyes closed as he neared the impact. Rubbing his sore butt, he opened his eyes to the tip of Percival's sword pointed squarely at him.

"My—" Lancelot sighed, graciously giving into his defeat. "My loss."

Percival helped his friend up with his free hand, readied to admonish the brunette as soon as he got to his feet.

"Pathetic, Lancelot. Was that truly your best?"

The man in question brushed himself off and ran off in the direction he threw his sword.

"You know I always bring my best." He picked up the sword and smiled bashfully towards the redhead. "Though I guess I'm a little rusty using just one sword."

"Not good enough of an excuse. Again," Percival pointed his sword towards the brunette. "We'll keep this up again and again until you take our training seriously. Don't forget, _you_ were the one to come to _me_."

Percival was right. Lancelot was the one who asked the former knight for his help in getting him familiar with using one sword again.

"Like I said, I always take these things seriously."

Before Percival could further admonish his comrade, the door connected to the dining hall opened to reveal Djeeta holding a tray of three glasses. Seeing that their spar came to a halt, Djeeta smiled and carefully trotted towards the two to present the drinks.

"Parched?" Laid on the circular tray was three glasses of lemonade, each rim adorned with a lemon wedge. "Lyria and Vane made some earlier."

Lancelot took the nearest glass and gave it a small sip. His eyes lit up when he recognized the familiar taste.

"Thanks! Vane's homemade lemonade is a real treat after being worked to the bone." He took another sip, ignoring Percival's glare thrown his way at the latter half of his comment.

"Here's yours Percival." Djeeta handed him one of the glasses. He hesitantly accepted it, bracing himself for the sugary drink to overwhelm his taste buds with a tangy sweetness. He was surprised when the drink was pleasantly tart. Seeing his shocked expression, she leaned in—on the tip of her toes—and with a low voice she whispered the reason why his drink was to his liking.

"Don't worry, Vane made two batches: one sweetened and unsweetened." She smiled, taking a sip of her own drink. "It wouldn't be fair to the other crew members who don't like their lemonade all sugary, so I asked if crew members like Lancelot could have a separate batch."

"And your drink too?" Percival teased, closing his eyes to prevent himself from chuckling at the pout he just knew was on her face. He took a long sip to hide his growing smirk.

"Ah yes mine is from the sugary batch, sorry for having the palate of a child!" Djeeta turned her head to the side and puffed out her cheeks, just like Percival predicted she would. He responded with a soft chortle, which only made her further inflate her cheeks.

Stood across from the pair was Lancelot who laughed at their banter, the opposite of his and Vane's but it still gave off a playful vibe. 

After all the years spent in the same order of knights, he had never seen Percival get so attached to someone as quickly as he did with the Captain. Despite caring for the members of their knighthood and putting his life on the line for them countless times, he had always kept a distance of sorts, even with Lancelot himself. He still remembered how shocked he was to see Percival when he and the crew rescued him from that dungeon. He didn't think that the redhead would be so keen to face him after everything that happened with Siegfried, in fear that memories—and worst of all: regret—from the past would overwhelm the both of them.

"Thank you for the lemonade Captain." The brunette then turned towards his former co-captain, smile as warm as ever. "And thanks for helping me out with training, Percival." Lancelot's smile softened, never thinking they'd share another pleasant, light-hearted day like today after the chaos that ensued after King Josef's murder. "You're as kind as ever."

" _'_ _Kind'_?" Percival raised a brow and scoffed. "Don't be silly, it's only natural that I see to it that the captain of the order I was once a part of, is in tiptop shape."

He closed his eyes, continuing.

"I won't let the order be disgraced."

Lancelot stood silent for a few seconds before he burst into laughter, soon joined by Djeeta's giggles muffled by her free hand—surely in an attempt to mitigate any of her liege's embarrassment.

"Your words may be harsh, but you really _are_ a good guy," Lancelot wiped away a tear and lowered his voice, making sure Djeeta's giggles drowned him out. "I hope that never changes."

"You're free to think what you want." Percival replied.

"Oh there it is, another one of Percival's classic ' _Percy-isms_ '!" Djeeta's giggles gone, she joined in on teasing Percival with the same joke Vane used in their friendly banter. "You can't hide your shyness that easily!"

Percival responded with a slight pout.

* * * * * *

"I did not—!" Percival interrupts Lancelot's story and stands up. The rest of the group tries in vain to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside of them from overflowing like soda escaping a shaken bottle. Upon realizing how loud he was, Percival quickly sits back down to nurse his embarrassment with a quick sip of alcohol. "I did not _'_ _pout'_." He says, while most certainly pouting.

* * * * * *

"While you're here," Lancelot turned to Djeeta. "Would you like to join us in our training?"

"I would love to!" Djeeta responded with a smile, eager to test her skills against the knights. Her smile faded a bit once the thought of intruding on their male bonding time came to mind. "If you don't mind, of course."

"Great!" Lancelot, not the least bothered, drank the remainder of his lemonade and lifted the empty glass towards Percival. "Do you mind Percival?"

"Fine." The redhead sighed, stretching his free hand out to Djeeta. "I'll hold onto the tray." Djeeta gulped the rest of her drink and placed her glass on the tray before she handed it to Percival. Lancelot dropped his cup off onto the tray and got into a fighting stance several meters away.

"Ready Captain?"

Djeeta pulled her sword from the sheath hung on her waist and readied herself. 

"Bring it on!"

The second those words left her mouth, the two leapt at each other and closed the distance between them. Swords crossed, neither side let up in fear the other would overpower them.

Djeeta went on the offense, in hopes that keeping him on the defense would prevent Lancelot from finding any chance to leap into the air and strike from above. With the weight of him bearing down on her, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to counter him if that were to happen. Given his signature move involved two swords instead of just the current one he had, she figured he wouldn't be able to pull it off in this fight. However, leaving that up to chance and putting her defense at risk was something she couldn't afford if she wanted to win this. 

But her continuous strikes would require stamina and the Captain's was starting to go down. If she kept this up, then it would only be a matter of time for Lancelot to find an opening.

Not wanting to lose out due to lack of stamina, Djeeta teetered backwards to draw distance while she regained her strength. Lancelot sees this as the perfect opportunity to pounce and begins running at her.

"Wait!"

Lancelot slowed down to a jog and both he and Djeeta's head turn towards Percival. He sets the tray of empty glasses, and his half empty one as well, on a nearby barrel next to the ship's railing. Stood towering over his vassal his eyebrows knit together as his hand cups his chin, eyes closed in what both assume is him deep in thought.

The Lord of Flames's eyes opened. To the surprise of Lancelot and Djeeta, Percival leaned down to whisper in the young captain's ear. At first she flinched, cheeks red from his hot breath hitting her ears, but eventually recovered herself once she took in Percival’s words.

When the surprise wore off, Lancelot spoke up.

"No cheating Percival. Remember, a win against your vassal is also a win against you!"

One of the redhead's hands rested on his hip, smirk in place.

"Think of it as part of your training." The hand not on his hip is raised, palm facing upwards. "You need to be able to break through anything the enemy throws at you."

"Is that so?" Lancelot walked back to his previous spot, sword lifted and a playful smirk of his own found its way onto his face. "Then don't hold back Captain!"

Lancelot sprinted towards the Captain.

"Right!" She lowered her sword, the tip of which pointed to the deck of the ship. Djeeta remained in place with the flat edge of her sword facing upwards.

Percival made his way back to the barrel, arms crossed as he kept an eye on their match.

The brunette wasted no time leaping into the air, this time planning to put his weight onto his one sword when he landed.

As he approached her unmoving figure, something inside him screamed out that it was odd she hadn't shifted into a defensive stance yet.

_Wait, don't tell me?!_

When he was in perfect range, Djeeta's sword struck upwards.

" _Vorpal Blade!_ "

Lancelot's plan of taking the offense backfires as he's forced to use his blade as a shield of sorts for her oncoming attack. He's pushed back by the assault and tumbles before he's stopped completely in the same spot he started.

The knight doesn't bother to open his eyes since the squeaks of the floorboards alert him that the Captain is hovering above him.

"Lancelot!?" The man in question cracked open an eye and instead of a sword pointed at him, like he expected, he saw her kneeled next to him. "Does it hurt? No broken bones, right? Oh Astrals above, if Feendrache hears I seriously injured their knight they'll never let me back in! I'll never get to eat Vane's cooking when he's there, Lancelot you gotta wake up or—!"

Lancelot burst out into laughter for the second time that day. Djeeta wasn't sure how to react, except sit there perplexed, while his snickers died down. If he was well enough to laugh, then surely everything was alright.

The Lord of Flames strutted towards the pair, looming over them with arms folded and eyebrows furrowed.

"Captain until your opponent gives up, the fight is not over." 

Djeeta stood up and prepared herself for further critique from the redhead. But instead of more scrutiny directed at her, Percival’s expression relaxed and he reached out to pat her gently on the head.

"However I’m willing to overlook that since you did well.”

The young captain beamed under his praise, her smile growing as he continued his affectionate gesture.

Lancelot propped himself up on his elbows.

“That’s good and all, but feeding the Captain information feels like cheating.” The knight sat up and rested one arm on his knee, the other on the floor holding himself up.

Percival gave Djeeta one last head pat before he turned to face his friend on the ground. His tiny grin quickly turned into a frown.

“I did nothing of the sort,” the redhead was back to folding his arms across his chest. “At most, I gave her a hint.”

Lancelot tilted his head, confusion written on his face. Seeing that his fellow comrade couldn’t understand what he meant, Percival sighed.

“All I did was point out how your stance looked mid-air. The Captain was the one who came up with the idea of using her charge attack.” Both men turned to look at Djeeta.

“I, uh, figured that I wouldn’t be able to hold off your attack so the next best thing was to use a more powerful move,” Djeeta extended her hand out to her sparring partner. “Sorry, if it was too much. I can help you to the infirmary if you need it.”

Lancelot reached out to take her hand. Once on his feet he gave her one of his friendly, charming smiles to ease any leftover worry. “I’m fine, thank you for the offer.” 

The brunette, one hand cupping his chin and the other holding that arm up by the elbow, was trying to strategize a counterattack. If he was going to attack from above with one sword, he’d need to change things up instead of relying on his little ace in the hole.

As if he read his mind, Percival spoke up to offer advice.

“Raise your sword above your head and point downwards in a stabbing motion when you attack. You can both defend and ambush your adversary this way when you have only one sword.” A cocky grin suddenly plays at the redhead’s lips. “Well it doesn’t matter either way, if the capital is ever in trouble I guess it’ll be up to me to come and save the day.”

Both captains looked at one another and smirked smugly, already squeezing the true meaning out of his carefully chosen words.

“So you’ll be there when we need you?” With arms stretched like an anteater on their hind legs, Lancelot blocked Percival’s front escape route. 

“To save the day when needed?” Djeeta crept up behind the Lord of Flames, also in a similar stance as the brunette knight.

Percival narrowed his eyes at Lancelot, he knew where this was heading.

But before he could voice his annoyance, they tackled him into a hug—Lancelot’s arm draped over the noble’s shoulder while Djeeta clung to his side.

“Percy’s so sweet!” Their voices sent him into sputters as he tried, unsuccessfully, to pry them off of him. Though gentle to his vassal, the same courtesy wasn't extended to his former co-captain.

* * * * * *

"Of course I'd be harsher on you. Between you and the Captain, only one of you has formal training with the sword."

Obviously, while Djeeta has talent with a variety of weapons she wasn't formally trained in any of them. If memory serves him correctly, she mentioned once that all her sword training came from fighting low-level monsters that lurked in the forests of Zinkenstill alongside Vyrn.

_"Ah, but if you ever meet the grannies back home don't tell them!" Lips formed into a teasing grin, her tongue playfully pokes out of her mouth._

Cute. 

Incredibly and utterly cute.

He'd take that secret with him to the grave.

"In that moment I judged that the best course of action was to give her advice. Besides, just because I didn't reprimand her in front of you didn't mean I didn't do so in private."

" _'P_ _rivate'_ , huh." Siegfried muses, the ends of his lips tilting upwards into a small knowing smirk—one that screams of hidden secrets he wasn't supposed to be privy to. His eyes close as he lets out a soft chuckle, somewhat lost in the memory, and swirls around the remaining ale in his mug. Three pairs of eyes quickly turn towards the older man at the sound of his voice, two of which light up like a kid in a candy store.

* * * * * *

Since the crew was going to be docked on Golonzo Island for a while, Siegfried figured he'd go into town to run a few errands. It was simple stuff he thought he'd stock up on—shampoo, armor polish, those sorts of things. It didn't take him long to shop, but for some reason he was constantly stopped by store vendors who kept pushing their perishable goods on him, oddly, free of charge. After he tried to turn the first few vendors down, only for them to insist even more on their generosity, he figured in the end it would be quicker to accept the gifts, even if it still took him longer than he originally planned to be out for. He was on his way to the dorm section of the ship to drop off his items, and maybe take a nap, when a voice unexpectedly spoke.

"It's only for a month or two."

About to turn the corner, Siegfried stopped in his tracks at the sound of his former student's voice. Careful to stifle the sounds of his brown paper bag, he peeked over the edge of the wall and almost retracted his head at what he saw.

Djeeta's hands lifted the long white skirt piece of her Elysian class outfit, careful not to trip on it in her state of upset when she took a step forward. "If it's only for that long then the Grandcypher can—!"

"Absolutely not," Percival sighed. It seemed like his crimson armor, and the surprise bag thrown over his shoulder, was weighing him down more than usual.

In the hallway intersection were both future king and his trusted vassal engaged in some sort of disagreement. If Siegfried had to guess, this argument probably started when Percival requested a short leave of absence to find more answers to his question of what makes an ideal nation and didn't want to impede on the crew's journey. Although if that were the case, Djeeta wouldn't want to continue her journey without her friend along for the ride and miss out on the fun of learning new things together. Despite them keeping the other in mind, neither seemed willing to back down as both their headstrong personalities clashed.

"Well I'm captain, so I overrule you." Djeeta's hands rested on her hips, demeanor defiant as her eyes bore into his. She wasn't one to resort to using her position of power against a fellow crew mate but all of her maturity flew out the window whenever it came to Percival.

"Well you're my vassal, so I overrule you." A smug look thrown Djeeta's way insinuates, to Siegfried, that Percival won this little conflict of theirs.

Unable to retort, Djeeta stood down but her pout and slight frustration was still evident in the way she folded her arms across her chest.

Percival gave a wry smile, reaching his hand out to pat her on the head. The gentle ministration relaxed her shoulders and eventually got her to unfold her arms. She looked up at him, the strong front she had crumbling as she planted her face into his chest. Her arms found their place weaved around his upper back. The smokey, cinnamon-like smell, that would forever be ingrained into her mind as the smell of Percival, helped quell her frustrations.

He brought her closer to him, his free arm wrapped around her lower back which caused her to let out a content sigh. His face cracked into a gentle smile, seemingly enjoying this rare side of the Captain only he got to see. He indulged her childish actions by continuing to softly pat her on the head, his voice lowered as he continued.

"I'll join up with you once I'm done and we're in the same vicinity. Until then, continue on your journey."

Djeeta hums and her arms wrapped around him tighter, bringing them even closer together in their hug.

Though this side of their captain was new for Siegfried, it didn't appear that way for Percival. The ease in which they closed the space between them made it clear to the Dragonslayer that this wasn't the first time the pressures of being captain were dropped in favor for this childish behavior that she seemed to have tucked away.

"I promise to write once I'm settled." After a short pause, Percival's gentle smile quickly turned into a smirk. "I'll even treat you to one of the island's specialty cakes once we meet up again."

"Cake?!" Djeeta immediately lifted her head as soon as she heard the word, eyes sparkling.

Percival restrained himself from laughing at her sudden joy for such a simple promise; the back of his hand lifted to his mouth to hide his growing smile.

"Yes, any cake of your choosing."

Djeeta rested her chin on his chest, all grins and giggles at the sound of delicious sweets.

"I'll hold you to that promise then!"

* * * * * *

The trio of knights sit in silence, still on the edge of their seats waiting patiently for Siegfried to share his story of Percival showing preferential treatment towards his beloved vassel. But try as they may, the Dragonslayer takes sip after sip without uttering a word.

Percival, on the other hand, was internally panicking. But no matter how much he felt like there was a wild carbuncle let loose in his stomach and bouncing around, he wouldn't let the anxiety show in his demeanor; any slight sign of fidgeting or sigh could give him away and his insistence of purely platonic feelings would crumble, resulting in a barrage of teasing—more specifically, teasing done in front of the subject of his little crush.

"Siegfried sir, if you have any stories to share please do!" Lancelot says as he stands up, leaning forward on his hands with his gaze locked on the older man, the buzz of alcohol finally taking effect and spurring him on.

"Yeah, now I'm all curious!" Vane too leans forward, on his elbows, facing Siegfried and more than happy to join his childhood friend in his antics. "You can't leave us hanging like that!"

"Is that so?" Siegfried lets out a slightly awkward laugh, unsure if sharing the rather intimate moment between the two would be appropriate. After all, he was pretty sure Percival didn't even know he saw the both of them engaged in their own little world as he spied from his spot behind the edge of the wall.

Whether or not he shared the story wouldn't have made any difference, however, because the creak of the wood floors abruptly ends their discussion and everyone sets their sights on the shadow emerging from the dark hallway. The noises from the floorboards cease once the dim lights, that stretch out from the nearby kitchen into the dining hall, illuminates this figure.

Sensing everyone's eyes on her, the arriving visitor holds the beige throw blanket around her tighter at the sudden attention.

"I, I hope I'm not intruding on anything." The Captain gives a light chuckle at what she hopes what isn't the case. She could hear their voices on her way to the dining hall and hearing the excitement from a few seconds ago hastily dither into silence makes her think otherwise. "I'll be out of your hair soon, I just came to get something to help me fall asleep."

She makes her way to the kitchen fridge, pulling out a carton of milk, and grabs a small cooking pot, sitting in the nearly empty dish rack, to heat some milk in. While that slowly warms up, she reaches towards the upper pantry cabinets to pull out her mug.

Djeeta peeks her head through the entryway of the kitchen—one hand holding the milk carton up and the other jamming a thumb in the direction of the stove. She directs her question towards the group of knights. "Would you guys like some too?"

Vane stands up to make his way to join her, more than happy to take her up on her offer.

"That sounds great, let me lend a—"

But Lancelot, now sitting back down, grabs his friend by the wrist and effectively stops him in his tracks. Lancelot stands back up and lets go of his hold on his friend.

"Sorry, we were just about to head to bed," Lancelot turns to face Vane and gives him a mischievous wink. "Right, Vane?"

Surprisingly, it only takes a few seconds for him to understand what Lancelot was playing at, though it probably helps that the topic of discussion beforehand was about further teasing Percival.

"Th...That's right!" Vane stretches his arms and releases a fake yawn, hoping to convince Djeeta. "Oh man, am I all tuckered out! I think it's time for me to go to bed, so sleepy!"

Lancelot grabs his and Vane's empty mugs, while Vane picks up the snack bowls devoid of their previous goodies, planning to drop them off in the kitchen's dishwasher for the next load.

"Next time I'll make some toasted bread to go along with the milk. Rosine says it's a great treat to dunk in your drink." Vane turns towards Djeeta after he sits the bowls in the dishwasher rack. Next to him is Lancelot, who drops off his dirty dishes.

"Try adding a couple spoonfuls of this stuff," Lancelot walks over to hand Djeeta the glass jar of honey, from the nearby counter, happy to share a secret with a fellow sweets connoisseur. "Just be sure to let the milk cool a bit before you add it."

Both Feendrache knights give her a wave and well wishes for a good night's sleep before heading to their respective rooms. As soon as they leave, Siegfried stands up and along with his barren mug he too heads for the kitchen.

"I just remembered that I have a mission in the morning, I should get going as well." He gives her a small, somewhat apologetic smile while he gently tosses his mug onto the dishwasher rack. The Dragonslayer turns towards Percival, a slight smile still gracing his lips.

"What will you be doing, Percival?" Hand still on the dishwasher's door handle, his tone implies it's more asking whether he should leave the door open than if he'll head to bed himself.

“I’ll head to bed soon, don’t mind me.”

“Okay then,” Siegfried closes the door to the dishwasher. “Goodnight, Captain, Percival.”

As soon as Siegfried is gone, Percival rises from his seat and picks up any remaining snacks or left behind trash the others missed. Luckily for him, only items left are a bag or two of half-eaten chips which makes it easier to bring into the kitchen, along with his mug.

Once done with his task of putting stuff away, he reaches towards the upper pantry cabinets to pull out his own ceramic mug. Seeing Percival with his own cup, she happily pours more milk into the pot to make enough for a second helping and stirs it around with a wooden spoon. They both take comfort in the soothing silence, the warmth of the piping hot milk filling the air around them and adding to the comforting atmosphere.

When a few minutes pass, Djeeta turns the burner off and looks for a ladle. Practically reading her mind, Percival joins in the search for the desired utensil and remembers he last saw it in the drawer with the other rarely used utensils. With his free hand he pulls it open, his eyes darting towards the metal ladle. He grabs it and hands it to Djeeta.

"Oh, thanks!" Her eyes light up and the smile she gives him conveys her genuine gratefulness for his help. Despite the simplicity of the task, it sets his heart racing.

Now equipped with the ladle, Djeeta begins pouring the hot milk into Percival's mug first careful not to let droplets spill onto the kitchen counter. Once done filling her leige's cup, she begins filling her own first with the ladle. When there is so little milk left using a ladle becomes useless, she grabs a potholder to manually pour the rest.

Percival, using a tablespoon, drizzles two spoonfuls of honey into Djeeta's drink—just how he knows she likes it. Using a spoon of her own, she stirs the honey into the milk. While she happily whisks the milk, possibly already imagining the feeling of the sweet and relaxing milk warming up her insides, with a second spoon he drizzles a considerably less amount (a little under half a tablespoon) of honey in his.

"So," Percival, turning his back towards the counter, blows on his hot milk, in an attempt to cool it down faster. "What's keeping you up late? You're usually asleep by now."

Also hoping to cool down her cup of hot milk, Djeeta, standing directly across from Percival, looks up from blowing cool air on her milk. She smiles sheepishly, very aware of how silly her reason is.

"About that…"

She pauses to pull up the drooping throw blanket falling off her right shoulder, holding it in place as she continues.

"Lyria decided that she would sleep in hers and Katalina's room tonight and I guess I'm so used to her sleeping next to Vyrn and I, that it made it harder to fall asleep." She takes a cautious sip of milk. "I figured a warm beverage would help me fall, and hopefully stay, asleep."

That was the reason? If she was so cold, then he could've utilize his fire magic to help heat her up.

_Or better yet, use his body._

The sudden, intrusive thought penetrates his mind and causes him to nearly choke on his drink. He clears his throat, both from slight embarrassment and reflex.

"You okay?" Djeeta, the ever diligent vassal, is by his side in mere seconds and ready to pat him on the back to clear his airways if need be. Her concern is quickly subdued when his coughing stops and he lifts his mug to his lips.

"I'm fine, just had a funny thought is all."

Djeeta relaxes her shoulders, but instead of backing up where she stood previously she takes her place next to the redhead and lets out a curious hum.

" _'A funny_ _thought_ '?" A small laugh escapes her lips at the absurdity of it all. "It's rare for you to be in the joking mood." She looks up at him and smiles expectedly. "Now you have to tell me this joke."

Percival tears his eyes away from hers and stares down into his half empty, half full mug, briefly pausing before he answers.

“I was just thinking that it was rather funny that the captain of a renowned crew would be so childish when it came to their sleeping habits.” He hides his forming smirk behind the rim of his cup and closes his eyes, picturing the pout that would surely appear on her face.

“Well if I am truly as childish as you think, then maybe you should spoil me more like one.” Djeeta huffs and brings the edge of her mug up to her lips in an attempt to try to hide the very expression she knew Percival was goading her into making.

However, instead of the Lord of Flames responding with more banter, like usual, the earlier conversation with his friends and her comment from just a few moments ago culminates with him bursting into laughter. As his amusement dies down, he extends his arm to playfully ruffle her hair.

“I believe I spoil you enough as is.”

The implication of his words flood her mind with memories of Percival's various acts of kindness and a blush spreads across the Captain's cheeks, somehow obscured by the hand trying to fix her hair.

Although his actions and words may seem almost patronizing, to Djeeta it's an act of rare physical affection that fill her chest with a welcome warmth soothing her more than any warm cup of milk ever could.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for making it this far! I'm still working on that little sequel for Garnet Necklace, I just get more and more prompt ideas and I have to write them down which leads me to focusing on those and it's all a mess haha ( .❛ ᴗ ❛.)
> 
> I created a twitter account (@fanaticffwriter) so if you wanna talk about granblue or other stuff I write about or just want to find fanart of this pairing feel free to do so! I haven't used my Twitter yet but so far I use it to retweet art and post updates regarding my writing.


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